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I Hate Being Right	By : Ulrike Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 11401 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I absolutely do not condone or encourage the act of rape or non-consensual sexual acts.This is a FANFICTION based off fantasy and fictional adult themes. None of these characters truly exist and no money was made from this fanfic

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fanfiction written for pure, sick angst. Absolutely none of these characters truly exist and no parts of this story are based on true events. Akira Toriyama is the original creator of Dragonball Z and Vegeta, Yamcha, and the DBZ universe belong to him.
Warnings: Blood, violence….Character Death…?
*’Everyone…thank you all so very much for staying with me on this incredibly fun, weird, violent, and erotic journey. Thank you.’
Ch. 18
The world stood completely still. Yamcha had experienced and witnessed so many terrible and amazing things in his life, but as he remained planted to the ground, staring at the space Skip had once stood, he felt his entire body shake and tremble with shock, astounded awe, and outright horror. Yamcha had all his power. He could fly, shoot energy, and over-power all those around him…but he had just pathetically and uselessly watched as Vegeta saved himself and ended Skip’s life. The last few minutes had felt like a blur and Yamcha recalled screaming at Skip to leave Vegeta alone. He had cried out for the saiyajin’s safety as the dying prince struck Skip to the ground. Without any ounce of strength within him, Vegeta had over-powered the small human and fought wildly. His actions and animalistic growls of agony and rage froze Yamcha where he stood. The life and pure instincts that had burst from Vegeta revealed the alien’s true nature and raw emotions. Even as his innards burned within and killed him in the most excruciating way, the saiyajin prince tore Skip apart with a furious brutality that left Yamcha watching from the sidelines with a mix of terror and utmost admiration.
Yamcha had never seen such a cold, vicious way of murder. Through his pain, Vegeta ripped the skin from Skip’s face and slammed the flat, slate rock into the man’s skull over and over again, the sound of splitting bone echoing off the cliff-side. And even when the agony appeared too much, the saiyajin found the strength to hurl himself onto his feet, his arm swinging out viciously and blindly at Skip’s throat. Yamcha’s eyes grew huge as he stood flabbergasted and watched his once good friend fall off the edge of the cliff. The small man’s faded eyes glanced at him and Yamcha’s stomach twisted as pain, shock, and pure grief were etched on Skip’s face. And then he was gone, haven fallen to his rocky death below. The scarred man continued to gaze at the empty air even when he heard Skip’s body hit the hard path at the bottom of the cliff and felt his life-energy disappear completely.
He continued to blindly stare forward even as Vegeta lay motionless at the very edge of steep plummet, his arm dangling over the dying weeds and cold rocks. The air and nature itself was dead silent, the animals and environment knowing what had taken place in the haunted woods. The sudden icy wind that tore past Yamcha’s face helped the warrior awaken from his traumatized stupor. The ripping, gurgling cough that filled the air fully brought Yamcha to his senses and he rushed forward, only having Vegeta in his sights.
Dropping to his knees, the scarred human placed his hands on the saiyajin’s choking, trembling form. Rolling the smaller fighter over slowly, Yamcha winced as Vegeta let out an even louder hack, a rush of blood staining the cool dirt as he wheezed and gasped. Holding Vegeta closely to him, Yamcha could feel his chest instantly grow warm and sticky as hot, red blood covered the front of his shirt. Taking a deep breath, Yamcha forced his eyes down and instantly moaned in despair as he stared into Vegeta’s white face. The dark blood that flowed from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears stood out clearly on his deathly pale skin. The prince’s expression was pulled into a contorted grimace of agony, his black eyebrows cinched together and mouth opening and closing as he tried to breathe. Trembling terribly, Vegeta’s body caused Yamcha to shake, as well.
“I’ll get you out of here,” Yamcha whispered.
He would not allow Vegeta to die. There was a deep rush of affection for the tortured being that Yamcha could not ignore. They had been through so much together and after seeing how much the saiyajin wanted to live made Yamcha’s heart ache for the agonized warrior. He had to set things right. It would kill him if Vegeta died in such a way. Yamcha had wronged the dying alien, wounded him so deeply Yamcha didn’t know how he could fix it. But he had to save him. He had to help Vegeta. And then he would let the prince decide what to do. It was Vegeta’s right. He had not deserved any of this.
“The remote…please…”
Yamcha’s head lifted and he stared at the tormented creature. Vegeta’s eyes were barely open, but Yamcha could see the gray irises gazing over the edge of the cliff. Yamcha nodded immediately. Even though Skip was dead, the controller was still actively waiting at the bottom of the rocky plummet. He knew that once the remote was completely destroyed Vegeta would be able to feel at least some relief. “Anything for you, Vegeta,” Yamcha said softly as he laid the prince back onto the ground as lightly as he could.
“I will be right back.”
Kissing the saiyajin quickly on the forehead, Yamcha dove over the cliff-edge before realizing what he had just done. Feeling instant hotness rise within his cheeks, the embarrassed human stumbled on the ground clumsily as he tried to decipher his very own actions. But as his eyes swept across the ground, his thoughts immediately changed as he stared at the body before him. Skip lay spread eagle on the compact ground, his arms and legs splayed in different directions. Yamcha’s stomach lurched at the deep hole cut across Skip’s neck. Sinew, veins, and deep maroon blood seeped from the gash where his throat once was, his esophagus having been torn out by the force of Vegeta’s attack. Yamcha swallowed down sickness as he gazed at the pool of blood and brain matter that sank into the pebble path where Skip’s head had landed. It was a gruesome, terrible death, but this was not the man Yamcha had known for all these years. The corpse that lay before him was a monster who had been obsessed with him and brutally tortured someone who should never have been involved.
Shaking his head, Yamcha looked away from the body and sighed as he saw the little gray joy-stick of a remote lying only a couple of feet away from Skip. Lifting his hand, Yamcha let the warmth gather in his palm and felt a giant wave of relief as he fired an energy blast into the cursed remote, leaving nothing but a smoking black pockmark on the fall ground. An immense weight seemed to have been lifted by the small action of destroying the diminutive object, but Yamcha was happy to be distracted for once from the present world.
Through the loud buzzing in his ears, Vegeta heard the sound of energy and couldn’t stop the pained smile that spread across his bloody face. He would never have to feel that horrid, murderous agony again. And Skip…that awful little human was dead. He was dead…. Vegeta’s blood-crusted eyes flew open and he gasped sickeningly, his throat closing as he choked on a glob of blood. Turning his head, he ignored the pain as he eyed the two humans sauntering toward him, their backs hunched and eyes dark with murderous rage.
Gripping the dirt forcefully with his jolting fists, Vegeta opened his mouth to cry out to Yamcha, but only a wheezing, gurgling blast of air vibrated through his lungs. Shifting on the dirt, the saiyajin’s face contorted with pain as his body refused to move.
“First Rich,” Hal snarled, his young voice low and maniacal. As he drew closer, he appeared to not even care that Yamcha would be arriving at the top of the cliff in mere seconds. “We found him in the house. His skull had been completely smashed under a slab of concrete.” Stopping a few feet from the fallen prince, Hal’s left arm lifted, the gun in his fist trembling wildly as blood ran down his skin.
It appeared that the man had been severely injured in the collapse, his arm even more wounded with the bite he had received from Vegeta earlier.
“And now my brother,” Hal whined, his voice cracking as grief overcame him. “I’ve decided you are no longer beautiful to me. Stand up, Saiyajin.”
Vegeta could only stare in shock and total disbelief at the men who stood over him. He could not understand how this had happened. How did Yamcha not feel their presence? They were so close! Hal’s hand twitched and Vegeta flinched as he expected a bullet to strike him at any moment. But Hal stood ready, his icy blue eyes wide with insane fury, his mouth curling into a strange grin that could have also been an anguished scowl of despair.
“I said get up, monkey. Unless you wish to die in the dirt where you belong?”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Vegeta clenched his teeth and somehow called upon the strength within his body to rise. If he did this slow enough, perhaps Yamcha would quit playing at the bottom of the cliff and realize that Hal and Hikaru/Bruce were still alive! Letting out a keening moan of agony, Vegeta commanded his body to raise, his knees wobbling so hard that he found it impossible to stand fully straight. Hunched over, Vegeta felt pure humiliation and anger course through him as he held himself like a feeble old man. Strings of blood hung from his parted lips and he swayed back and forth as Hal and Hikaru/Bruce glared at him, the previous amusement no longer present on either of their expressions. Squeezing one eye shut, Hal took aim.
Yamcha breathed in the cold breeze that flew through the air and finally forced his mind to crawl out of its temporary relief. He needed to get Vegeta to Korin’s tower immediately for a senzu bean. The saiyajins were strong, but Yamcha knew that the prince did not have much time. Gazing up the fifty meter rocky hillside, the warrior’s eyebrows lowered in confusion as his brain suddenly moved through molasses. Vegeta was up and standing with his back to the steep drop. How had he found the energy to rise, or more importantly, why?
“Vegeta, what are you doing up there?” He yelled up to the prince’s back.
Vegeta craned his neck slightly, his body trembling and heart racing with panic as he heard the fool’s question. The two humans before him…they must have been weakened by the collapse of the house more than he realized. Yamcha couldn’t sense them there. Or else he was just truly too stupid to concentrate on anyone else’s power besides his.
His entire body was shaking from pure blinding fear now. He looked back at the monsters standing only a few feet from him, and could feel the defeated, disbelieving expression cover his face. Yet there was no point in hiding behind a mask of arrogance and pure stupid pride anymore. He had lost against Hal. These disgusting humans had beaten him. And he could no longer hide his fear, agony, or weakness.
Hal stood unblinking, his arm extended and steady now. The ogre stood behind him, his fingers tapping anxiously against the glass syringe-gun in his beefy hands. Vegeta stared into the blue eyes before him, seeing the hatred and madness deep within those icy depths. Yamcha hovered above the ground, his power bubbling around him as he moved slowly upward. Something was not right. A dawning sense of horror and panic gripped him so powerfully suddenly, that he froze in midair, unable to move as his heart raced almost painfully in his chest and his blood stilled in his veins. The others…Skip’s brother and his allies. Yamcha had not seen any of them in the house!
“VEGETA!” Yamcha’s voice exploded across the land as he raced upward, his energy whipping around him wildly as he tried to move as fast as he could.
But along with his roaring voice, the wooded area grew deafeningly quiet as a piercing bang accompanied his anguished yell. Speckles of blood landed on his face and Yamcha screamed in horror as Vegeta fell backward, his limp body gracefully sailing through the air. Lurching forward, the crying human clutched the saiyajin to his chest tightly and turned his back to the enemies as to protect Vegeta from further harm. Falling to the ground in despair, Yamcha let out another agonized howl of grief as he hunched over the motionless prince, his eyes boring into the gargantuan streak of missing skin and skull on the left side of his head.
Blood poured from the bullet wound and Yamcha sobbed as he felt absolutely no life from the body. Vegeta’s eyes were closed and his lips were lightly pressed together. He could have been sleeping. Yamcha screamed the saiyajin’s name, hoping desperately for any amount of power to suddenly grow within the prince. Shaking the body violently, Yamcha roared Vegeta’s name and begged him to awake. But he remained still and lifeless. Even in death he was stubborn and unyielding.
“YOU ARROGANT BASTARD! WAKE UP!”
Crushing Vegeta to his body, Yamcha sobbed and wept onto the bleeding, cold face below him. It wasn’t fair! They had been so close and Yamcha ruined it! How had he not noticed those men nearby? Hal…and that gun… It was difficult to release his mechanical hold on Vegeta, but the rage that suddenly burst forth was stronger. Jumping to his feet, Yamcha whipped around, his head snapping to the cliff-top as his vision became blurred with fury. Something struck his cheek directly under his right eye, but in his blinding rage, Yamcha ignored the sting and exploded from the ground, his energy creating a small crater where he had been standing.
Racing up at the surprised faces, Yamcha let out a howl of hatred and anger, his soul wanting nothing more than to totally rip the men apart. He heard the gun fire, but his raising power simply caused the bullets to bounce away. Nothing would stop him now that his true fury had been unleashed and he used his energy like an armor shield. Whipping his hand forward, Yamcha sent out a wave of destructive energy, the blast throwing Hal and Hikaru through the air. Ignoring their shocked and pained cries, Yamcha marched toward the fallen pair, his red energy licking at his skin as the awesome power grew. Hal pressed his back against a large tree and tried to steady the gun in his vibrating hands, but found he could not aim the weapon. An expression of pure terror engulfed his face and he whimpered as Yamcha slowly made his way toward him. Hikaru cautiously crawled toward some nearby bushes, his large body quite noticeable behind the dying fall plants.
“He didn’t do anything to you!!” Yamcha hollered. “You will pay for what you have done! You will pay for what you did to both of us!!”
Lifting his hand, Yamcha’s eyes grew gargantuan as a mad glee filled him. Never in his entire life had he wanted to murder someone so much. He wanted to see Hal’s blood splattered across the dirt, his body blasted into millions of tiny molecules from his energy. He wanted Hal and Hikaru dead and he wanted them to be terrified and he wanted it to hurt. Gathering the fierce power in his palm, Yamcha’s lips drew back as he bared his teeth and grinned. Letting out a dark chuckle, the red energy grew larger, its power heating the entire area and causing the whole woods to become bathed with the burning light. Hal kicked against the cold, dirt-covered ground, but was held in place as the giant tree pressed against his back. Licking his lips, Yamcha allowed one more surge of power to enter his energy ball. Pure maniacal excitement filled every fiber of his being and Yamcha concentrated. Aiming the blast at the cruel monster on the ground, the scarred man began to laugh at the fear on Hal’s face.
“Burn in Hell!”
Yamcha released his hold of the enormous energy ball…but a sickening jolt passed through him before he had entirely disconnected from the power. His vision blurred suddenly and he watched in shock as the red burst of power grew fuzzy and slowly began to fade, the burning tendrils of energy rising into the air and disappearing completely. Reeling with dizziness, Yamcha fell to one knee and grabbed his head, his stomach lurching as he tried to call upon his chi. Blinking distractedly, Yamcha groaned as his body grew weaker.
“G-good shot with that syringe, Hikaru,” Hal stammered.
Yamcha gasped and fell backwards onto his butt. Lifting a shaking hand, the scarred man gingerly pressed his fingers against the small hole under his eye. He had been shot in the face with the poisoned syringe. Before he had fully raised his power and concentrated, Hikaru fired a single dart at him. If just one needle could do this to his power, how had Vegeta tolerated three?
Yamcha’s bleary eyes rose and stared at Hal. The brightly dressed man slowly pulled himself together and stood, his lanky body overshadowing Yamcha’s trembling form.
“You had me going for a second there,” Hal hissed.
He nodded to Hikaru and Yamcha let out a shrill cry as another stinging dart struck him in the kidney. The two men approached him cautiously, their hands reaching down and grabbing at him. Finally realizing his situation, Yamcha began to whimper and groan as he tried to pull away, but the horrid solution within those darts made his body feel numb and completely powerless. His energy was nowhere to be found and every time he called upon it, he felt nauseous and drained. His world began to spin and Yamcha knew that he was on the verge of passing out.
“The car is still intact,” Hal said coldly. “He’s not nearly as interesting as the saiyajin, but he’s a hot little fuck. Plus…he needs to pay for his crimes.”
Yamcha began to thrash and scream now. The hands tightened around him and began to drag him away. Ripping at his hair and tearing at his clothes as they pulled him across the rocky ground, Hal and Hikaru jeered and spat at the struggling man, their goals only set on revenge. The humor was gone. Yamcha began to scream hysterically now as he realized what was to be done with him. He was going to experience everything Vegeta had, only these two madmen were no longer under the guidance of Skip.
They were wild and independent. The death of Skip had insured Hal and Hikaru’s complete dominance over the situation. Yamcha was not going to live for long, and if he did…he would wish for death soon. Crying and screaming, the scarred warrior found himself weakening more and more as he was dragged away from the cliff-side and deeper into the woods…away from Vegeta. The thought of the saiyajin’s small, unprotected corpse caused Yamcha to break out into hysterics. Fearing for himself, as well as for the deceased prince, the man shrieked and writhed, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide as he sobbed and pleaded.
“VEGETA!” He cried. “Vegeta! I’m sorry! I’m…sorry,” he whispered at the end.
Finally losing his vision, Yamcha let out one final anguished cry, his curled hand reaching out toward the fading canyon as all energy left him. Blinking through his tears, the warrior passed out into oblivion, his last distressed thoughts on the tormented saiyajin prince and his soon-to-be torture.
Vegeta had heard the idiot human scream his name before the pure blinding white light filled his brain. The two noises coincided; Yamcha’s panicked voice and the bullet tearing through his skull. There was a moment of ungodly pain, before everything just stilled and became nothing. He had felt himself flying…the heavenly feeling making him want to cry out. Oh how he had missed that feeling, the feeling of soaring, feeling weightless and free. But the blinding white was soon replaced with pure blackness and Vegeta felt trapped and cold.
He was confused, unknowing if he was dead or alive or somewhere in between. A voice that seemed so far away kept screaming his name and crying. The voice was familiar, but Vegeta didn’t know who it was…and he didn’t really care. He wanted out of this darkness. Someone, though…someone was very sad that he was dead…or dying. There were other sounds. There was more screaming, and larger, scarier noises. The familiar sound of searing energy was one thing he recognized. That wonderful noise of gathering power and crackling energy was so close. He wanted it. He was starving for it. But then it was gone. The screams were getting softer and that lovely sound of energy had left his side…or body…or hovering soul.
Vegeta wondered how long he would be trapped in limbo. What if his soul was trapped in his wretched, broken body? Would the kings of Otherworld just allow his soul to die within his useless corpse, or would he soon be transported to Hell? Would Hikaru get a hold of him and… If he had tears, they would fall. Flashes of his life passed through his ‘mind’ and Vegeta felt immense waves of pure agonizing sadness grip him. Faded images of his childhood with Frieza swept past his ‘eyes’ until everything landed upon his past several hours of life. An overwhelming sense of defeat, shame, rage, and uncontrollable grief filled him and he wanted to scream and rip his hair out and beat his fists against everything around him.
But he had no body, no fists, and there was absolutely nothing around him…just blackness. But he could hear. Or he could imagine sound. His name was being called again. That familiar voice from before….Yamcha. The human was crying out for him. He was pleading…begging…sobbing for him. Apologizing. Crying…FOR him. And then the voice faded. The tear-filled, agonized sobs slowly disappeared and Vegeta knew he was truly alone, and it scared him more than anything else in the universe. He had never been afraid of loneliness.
But the lack of Yamcha’s presence terrified him, even though he knew he should not have been afraid of anything anymore. Yamcha. That human had kissed him on the forehead before he left to destroy the remote. The action was so quick and natural, even Vegeta had not been perturbed. He had also not been fully conscious, but he knew what had happened and could admit that it was actually a comforting gesture.
Yamcha had raped him. He had willingly taken pills that gave him the confidence to sexually assault and almost kill him…but Vegeta found he could forgive the man. Out of everything Vegeta had ever experienced, he had somehow been able to see Yamcha as a living being with faults that had made a mistake. But none of it mattered. Vegeta had been killed by a primitive human weapon. A bullet tore through his skull and the saiyajin prince had died a pathetic, embarrassing death.
The images in his mind slowed and the prince felt himself fading from the darkness. Things were growing clearer, as if he was slowly sinking into a glass tank of water. He thought he could hear more noises outside his body, or perhaps he was finally entering the spirit realm. Clouded, murky voices entered his ‘mind.’ He thought they sounded familiar. But of course, he knew that he was not truly thinking anything. Though, it was strange that out of anyone to imagine hearing, Kakarot and the other fool earthlings should enter his mind. The distant voices sounded panicked and disturbed. Were they really near his body?
If he could smile, he would. The sight of him probably scared them shitless. He could just see Kakarot’s face as he stared down at his bloody, lifeless form.
‘Look at what you protect, Kakarot,’ Vegeta would say. ‘Your precious humans did this and now they have taken one of your closest friends to do the same to him!’
And yet, thinking about this happening to Yamcha did not please Vegeta. The arrogant saiyajin had so wanted to show Yamcha how horrible and dreadful humans could be. It was outright foolishness that the man had believed the inhabitants of Earth were so pure and kind-hearted. Just because Kakarot the Hero was a god, did not mean his followers were. Vegeta wanted nothing more than to somehow show Yamcha the true horrors of human nature. He had never wanted to be that example, though.
Vegeta realized his sick obsession with winning earlier when he felt nothing but smug arrogance at how he had been treated. A part of him had wanted Yamcha to witness his torment and horrors just so he could win the argument of who was more evil, saiyajins or humans? Perhaps it was a good thing he was put out of his misery. But the more Vegeta got to know the idiot human, the more he realized that his insane arrogance had only aided in his own torture. Yamcha’s fear, terror, and guilt did not make Vegeta happy or smug. Instead, he had felt himself drawn closer to this human, this earthling that had only been a part of the huge problem. In the end of this battle, Vegeta was pretty sure that there was no winner to their argument. His obsession with being correct had only further aided the stereotype of the evil, insane saiyajins.
He was not bluffing when he said he would destroy the earth. If it truly was Kakarot and the others surrounding his dying or dead corpse and they succeeded in reviving his worthless body, there was no doubt that he would try to his best to kill everyone. Skip, Hal, Hikaru, and Rich were perfect examples of the sick side of humanity. But then, even Yamcha had raped him and used him for his pleasure…but he had felt remorse, and perhaps even love for Vegeta.
As the strange muted voices resonated through his ‘head’ Vegeta could only smile sadly to himself. In the end the only conclusion he came to was not of the cruelty of humans and saiyajins…but of himself. Had he lead himself into this situation? Had karma or fate brought him to this dreary end? If so, the final thought before he could think no more was how much he truly hated being right.
The End *'There it is. The End. It's been an extremely long, strange journey and I hope you all enjoyed it. I hope "I Hate Being Right" brought you out of your shell, encouraged you to read and perhaps enjoy a story with such horribly violent or erotic themes. I hope that it made you think, too. The ending of this story first entered my head almost three years ago. I've been writing the chapters in the hopes of one day catching up to this terribly violent ending that has been plaguing me for all these years. If the end upset you or angered you...good. The healthy reaction to any story with such violent themes is to be unnerved, disturbed, or mad. Along with this, I would like to clarify, again, that this fanfic is fiction, based off fantasy themes with no characters based off real people.
Thank you all for the great reviews and ideas. Shout out to Kahlan Nightwing, who gave me the idea in the very beginning to add Yamcha into the picture. Big thanks to Julesie. I loved talking about the plot and story ideas with you. Your reviews always made me so very happy. THANK YOU EVERYONE SO MUCH!'*
Sequel can be found here http://anime2.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600023985
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I Hate Being Right